


hearth

by scribblingnellie



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea POV, Christmas, F/M, Kissing, Mycroft's wonderful hands, Romance, Sexy Mycroft, Sexy Times, Touch, Touching, fire side, hearth and home, in love with the British Government, mythea, someone to come home to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblingnellie/pseuds/scribblingnellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After picking up the pieces after his younger brother on that cold Christmas Eve, Mycroft returns home to his fireside, and to Anthea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hearth

'Was it her body, sir?'

'Yes.'

Was it resignation in his voice? Anthea made her way across the room to where Mycroft had sat himself in front of the fire. The blaze threw shadows across his body as he slumped back into the winged leather armchair. His eyes, tired, exhausted, stared into the hearth.

'Is there anything I can get you?'

'Thank you, my dear. Tea would be most welcome.'

'Of course.'

Reaching out, he stopped her with a touch to her hand as she turned from him.

'Oh, sir, your hand's freezing.' And Anthea quickly wrapped her fingers around his, gently pulling his hand to her.

'It is no matter. Standing outside in the cold with my recalcitrant brother; the things one does for family.' Each of his fingers threaded their way through hers. 'You don't have to call me sir anymore.'

'I know. Habit, I guess.'

Feeling his free hand trace the line of her hip, she shivered under his slow, deliberate touch.

'You just like calling me that, don't you.'

'Well, you are the British Government. I feel I ought to call you sir.'

'Would you still call me sir if I did this?'

His lips felt warm and soft against her fingers as he brought her hand to his mouth.

'I may.' Feeling her hand tingle under his gentle touch.

'And if I did this?'

Mycroft's fingertips trailing along her arm, she felt the goose bumps ripple in their wake under her shirt sleeve.

'Possibly.' Breathing slowly, in and out.

'That is all very good to know, my dear.'

'And would you still call me Anthea?'

Placing a finger tenderly down on his lips, she let her eyes roam over his face - his beautiful cheekbones, the strands of auburn brushed back from his forehead, his delicate eyelashes. And the one that always undid her - the intense blue gaze of his eyes. Even before Mycroft's realisation that he was in love with her, before he had placed that first, hesitant kiss on her lips, Anthea had always felt herself shaken when she found his eyes looking into hers.

'If you wish me to.'

As she bent down, bringing her lips towards his, two quiet, echoing chimes sounded from the antique mantle clock behind her.

'Merry Christmas, sir,' she whispered against his cheek, letting her lips hover close to his.

'Merry Christmas, Anthea.'

His hand tangled itself slowly in her the loose strands of her hair as they fell across his face, fingers rubbing against her neck as he covered her mouth with his. Giving herself up to the sensation of goose bumps all over, she found herself settling into his lap, the heat of the fire on her back, and the warmth of his arms around her.

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little Mythea fic - with some sexy undertones! There's something irresistible about these two together - both quiet, secretive and sexy people! Many thanks for reading.


End file.
